


take you down another level (get you dancing with the devil)

by leifstroganoff



Series: dancing with the devil [1]
Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24670222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leifstroganoff/pseuds/leifstroganoff
Summary: treach·er·ous/ˈtreCH(ə)rəs/hazardous because of presenting hidden or unpredictable dangers.
Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Leif Donnelly
Series: dancing with the devil [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963825
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i take every single author's note on dear friend back THIS is the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written and it's brought to you by listening to "wicked games" by the weeknd on repeat
> 
> i don't know when this is set don't ask me it can be during canon post-canon whatever your heart desires i am far too tired to set explicitly when this is set it really doesnt matter it's just smut theres no plot (edit: when i wrote this i wasnt expecting to get invested in this universe and write two sequels, its set in a nebulous time of "past season 1" and i came back on feb 22 2021 to edit the beginning of this and make it jive more w/ the sequels but its still shameless smut) 
> 
> i have also,,,, never actually written and published smut before so uhhhh good luck i guess

The tension in the office has been suffocating recently; Zoey's promotion is _stressful_ and Leif is just a little too prideful to admit how much of a struggle it's been to adjust to managing the team in her absence (he almost wishes he _hadn't_ stepped in to the job and he's more than aware that she's actually left pretty big shoes to fill, but he'd never tell _her_ that), and somehow, in the midst of _all of that_ , they're still at each other's throats. She doesn’t know if it’s the self-righteous attitude or the arrogance or the absolute disregard for authority that isn’t masculine that pisses her off the most, but everytime they try to _talk to each other,_ let alone work together on anything (which is very hard to _avoid_ , now that he's working directly under her in a leadership position), they end up bickering (and they do _not_ sound like an old married couple, no matter what she's heard muttered by certain brogrammers when they pass by the conference room) and either walking away in frustration or taking a major productivity hit due to the aforementioned bickering.

Tonight is no different, except that it’s only them at the office and it’s really closer to _this morning_ than _tonight._

“Zoey, c'mon, just let me take the lead on this, I _am_ in charge of them. _I'm_ the one still here. I just wanna get it over with." 

“ _Leif,_ " Zoey starts, shaking her head and letting a little bit of an incredulous laugh bubble up from her chest. " _Seriously?_ There's a team for you to work with for a reason. You're there to _lead,_ not to _be_ the team." 

“Zoey, I —”

"Seriously, when are you gonna learn that you're not a one man team, Leif?" The words hold more fire than previous bickering, frustration at the insufferability of his ego bubbling over into them. "You're a good manager, nobody can deny that, but you'd be a _great_ one if you just... took a step back and looked at the bigger picture, outside of yourself and how _great you are._ "

She ends in a mocking tone, rolling her eyes before glancing back at him to see that it looks like he's stunned into silence and _good._ It's about time he shut up for a minute. She doesn't like that only a second later a sly smile draws onto his face as he leans against the end of the glass table and crosses his arms over his chest. 

"So, I'm a good manager?" 

_God._ Of course that's the only thing he'd taken from _anything_ she'd said. _Of course._

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

She doesn’t expect for the room to fill with tension after that, his eyes drifting down and letting the smug smile drop and she can tell he’s looking at her lips and _gross,_ did he mean it _like that?_

Her gut reaction to the idea of kissing Leif is _ew, vomit,_ on account of both it being _Leif_ and her being _his boss_ , but now that the idea’s in her head and he’s looking at her with a challenge in his eyes, she can’t help but glance at his lips where he’s drawn his jaw tight, accentuating the bone structure and muscle underneath. He isn’t… _unattractive,_ she supposes. Quite the opposite, actually, now that she's letting herself _actually_ look at him (and it's nothing she _hasn't_ noticed before, it's just... not something she'd really _let_ herself think about since the first time she'd heard him sing). There are worse people to consider the idea with and it’s not like anybody is here to catch them if she indulges, even momentarily. And if she leans in, it _will be_ momentary, she's sure of it. She just needs to do it so she'll stop thinking about what it would feel like to give in to the tension and then she'll be able to pull away and it'll be totally normal and they can move past it and maybe someday they'll laugh about it.

It only takes a second more of heavy thought from both of them before their lips crash together unceremoniously. Their bodies press tight against each other as Leif pushes her against the table in the center of the room, hands pushing against her hips and it becomes quickly clear to her that she'd been very naive to even consider that it would be momentary once she'd given into it because what she thought was just a tiny spark of chemistry seems to have grown into a flame as his hips push into hers and his hands grip her hips only a _little_ too tight, pushing into the table and into her, lips moving deceptively smoothly against her own, more _desperate_ than she would've guessed he would ever be. It only takes her a second more to decide that _this isn't gonna work,_ pushing him around and to the side so that it’s now her pushing him against the table, slotting one of her legs between his own and pushing in, soliciting a moan that he tries to suppress. 

Their lips disconnect in the struggle for dominance, foreheads against each other as they both take labored, ragged breaths. 

“This is… uh... _”_

“ _Holy shit.”_

They both go back in, soft lips meeting slightly chapped, urgent ones. It’s an ugly kiss; sloppy and wet, their teeth clash together awkwardly when they move the wrong way, and neither of them are one hundred percent sure what to be doing with their tongues right now. It looks more like something you’d see in a teen coming-of-age movie than two adult coworkers in the conference room of their real, actual adult job. 

Leif’s hands wander from where they’d drifted to Zoey’s hips, cupping her ass before lifting and turning around, setting her down on the table where she’s closer to his face without having to stand on the tips of her toes and deepening the kiss, hands now resting on her thighs, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing, the rest of his mind far too preoccupied with the sensations thrumming through his entire body. His thumb is rubbing softly in the space between her legs and she can’t help but to think he should _move that thumb a little closer in, please._

His lips are more intoxicating than she would ever have guessed; he tastes like a horrifying mix of chewing gum and absurdly sweet coffee and she _shouldn’t_ enjoy that, that should taste abhorrent in every way, yet with every movement of their lips, she’s drawn in closer, wanting _more, more, more_. Of him. Of _Leif Donnelly_. Of all the people in the entire freakin’ world, she’s found herself making out with Leif Donnelly on the conference room table. _Where she works._ What is she supposed to do when she has to give a presentation or talk to her team and all she can think of is her ass pressed against the glass table and Leif’s body pushing against her own?

Regardless of her internal freakout, she doesn’t pull away; in fact, she does quite the opposite, looping her index fingers through two of his front belt loops and pulling him closer, wrapping her legs around his backside. With that, she moves her lips from his own to kiss down his jaw, passing down to his throat and sucking, feeling a hard swallow beneath her lips, followed immediately by a groan coinciding with the tightening of his hand on her thigh, his entire body shuddering. 

It’s nice, she decides, to know that she has this power over him. That no matter how many times he’s willfully insubordinate and errant, how many times he’ll purposely start arguments when they should be working, he can be torn down by her lips alone, reduced to whimpers and groans, losing the control that he seems to think he always has. 

She’s never been more pleased to have chosen to wear a sundress and jean jacket than when his hand slides from where it had been gripping her thigh to be fully under the hem, letting his thumb brush against her clit through her underwear, right above where a wet spot is starting to form. She can feel his heavy breathing through his throat until she pulls away, pulling up at the bottom of his sweater. He takes the hint and helps her get it off, tossing it on the table behind her. With that out of the way, she very eagerly brings their lips together now, not hesitating to swipe her tongue along his bottom lip, practically begging for more. 

Her hands are working quickly to untie his tie and throw that behind them, too, not bothering to care where it ends up, just that it’s off of _him_ , allowing her more access to skin as her fingers work to unbutton every button on his obnoxious button-up as fast as she possibly can, pushing past the opening to run down his chest, thumb very purposely pausing to put pressure on one of his nipples and she takes a second to delight in the groan that’s pressed into her mouth, followed by what sure sounds and feels like a whimper. She didn’t expect him to be so malleable beneath her fingers, willing to bend in whatever way is gonna please her the most. In no universe had she ever imagined being in this position with Leif, but if she had, she definitely would not have thought that he’d be so _pleasure_ focused on the other person; she’s always seen him as selfish and arrogant and here he was falling apart in front of her, willing and wanting, giving himself to her.

She spreads her fingers out as they trail down his stomach (and that’s quite a bit of muscle and defined abs for a guy she swears she could snap in half if she tried really hard), letting them linger above his waistband as she pushes into the kiss more; the kiss itself is still forceful and messy, far too much of their attention focused on the way their bodies are interacting to make sure their teeth aren’t clashing or their tongues are positioned just right. More of Zoey’s attention is drawn decidedly _away_ from the top half of their bodies when Leif’s thumb pushes aside her underwear, moving to rub circles against her clit, drawing a shudder from Zoey and she doesn’t even try to quiet the moan that travels into his mouth.

This time, it’s him that takes control, kissing slowly from the side of her mouth to her jaw to trail slowly down her neck, slowing his thumb to an agonizing pace as he uses his free hand to push her jean jacket off (which she happily assists him with, placing one hand on the back of his neck and the other tangled in his hair, pulling lightly, as soon as the jacket is rid of). His next goal is to unzip the back of her dress and push it off of her shoulders, which he does as he slides his middle finger into Zoey, letting her adjust with a couple strokes in and out before adding his ring finger, adjusting his hand so the palm rests over her clit; he pushes them in slow, trailing more small kisses down where her breasts are now exposed, scraping his teeth against the skin gently, stopping for a second to appreciate where her pale skin is turning red and where there are hints of purple forming where he’s sucked on the skin.

“Leif, if your mouth doesn’t come back somewhere on my body in the next 5 seconds, I’m gonna implode.”

He lets out a small laugh, his fingers still moving agonizingly slow, letting a huff of warm breath float across her chest, causing a shiver to run down to the bottom of her spine. 

“Aye, aye, cap’n.” He chooses to come back up and reconnect their lips, curling his fingers upwards, moving his hand in more of an up and down motion now as he thrusts his tongue into her mouth. The only thought in his brain is _make this good, make this good, make this good._ Wow, even in moments of passion, he can’t escape the crushing pressure to prove himself. _Smooth._ After he elicits another moan, he trails down from her mouth again, knowing now exactly which spots get a reaction, each kiss ending with just a little bit of sucking, enough to evoke a shaky ‘oh’. When he moves lower to bring a nipple into his mouth right as his fingers curl up into her g-spot, he gets an ‘oh, god, _Leif’_ followed very closely by a _‘God_ , that’s good’, stimulating a fluttering in his own stomach, shooting straight to where he’s been hard for god knows how long, magnified by the pressure of Zoey’s hand clenched in his hair, pulling outwards as his fingers keep moving up and inside her. 

_“Fuck.”_ Her head drops forward onto his shoulder as he feels her tighten around his fingers, her fingers tangled in his hair now pulling in one consistent tug, her breathing sharp and rapid as his fingers continue working her through her orgasm, palm rubbing against her clit every time they go in and out. _“Fuck.”_

Her breathing is evening out now, head resting in the nook of his neck as he pulls his fingers out, wiping them carelessly on his (stupidly _tight_ , where she can still see that they're tented) pants.

“Do you… uh, wanna…” His breaths are ragged, taken in sharp, in between words. “Continue this somewhere more private?”


	2. bring your love, baby (i can bring my shame)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to everybody who asked for a second chapter this is for all of u (i cant promise its good bc its uuuuhhhhhhhh 2am but i've been working on this since i published the first chapter in june sooo i think it's Time)

She really doesn’t know what alternate universe Zoey had taken over her with an enthusiastic “yes” when Leif proposed going somewhere else. She doesn’t like Leif. She barely _tolerates_ him. And yet, here she is with the taste of coffee and gum and spit stuck in her mouth (every second of the ride to her apartment was spent wanting more of that disgustingly addictive combination, no matter how hard she tried to push it to the back of her mind) and here he is, curious eyes wandering as he walks into her apartment (and she’s _not_ sneaking him in, she doesn’t care if Mo sees him, she’s a grown woman, shut up) and he only looks a little bit like he’s judging her decor.

“So…” 

_“So…”_

Zoey lets the awkward energy hang in the air for a second as they stand in front of her closed living room door before deciding that it’s much too late to back out now and that she’d really rather his body be pressed against hers again than continue to let him stand there in all his gaping tall awkwardness. Before she can think too much more about it, she’s grabbing him by the neck to bring their lips together again, forceful and commanding and he melts into it, the strained and graceless energy melting with him and coming together into a charged energy, directed and focused solely on her. 

In an effort to get their bodies as close together as possible, she moves forward, pushing him against the door with a little more force than necessary, rattling the wall. He quickly pulls away (to the best of his ability, anyways) when there’s a crash and what sounds like glass breaking from next to them. _‘Everything is Under CTRL’._ She almost laughs. _Because of course._ She is pretty damn well aware that everything is _not_ under control and the slim chance of anything _being_ under control flew out of any of the many SPRQpoint windows the second Leif’s hand had slid under her dress (some would argue that chance was gone much, much earlier than that).

“Should we -”

Her hands press against his chest as he starts to talk (whether his heart is racing because of the situation or the shock of the poster falling is something she doesn’t find herself wanting to ponder for long) as she stands on the very tip of her toes to press a fast kiss against his pulse point, effectively making him cut himself off with a gulp. 

“Mhm, ignore that.” 

“Aye, aye.” 

It’s absolutely unfair how raspy and attractive his voice is on _such_ a dorky response.

She crashes their lips together again before she can fixate too hard on how cute his lopsided smile is because she does not need to be thinking he’s cute. This is so not about him being cute and there are absolutely no butterflies allowed to be fluttering around in her stomach. This is about a release of tension and wanting to get laid. He’s convenient and _interested_ and that’s all there is to it, Zoey, keep it together.

He seems to get the message, pushing her forward and starting their stumble towards her bedroom, turning around at some point during the scramble so that it’s his knees that collide with the edge of her bed, detaching himself from her to catch himself just enough on his elbows so as not to wipe out completely as Zoey settles on top of him, running her hands down his chest and pausing to put pressure over his nipple through his shirt, causing his eyes to fall closed as a small whine comes from the back of his throat, the stimulation seeming to make him fall apart more than he already has.

She could watch this forever, she thinks. Or, at least for the next twenty or so minutes, because _forever_ is not a thought that should ever enter her head about Leif Donnelly and she’s gonna stop that train of thought before it even pulls into the station. Regardless, she enjoys seeing his hair sticking out where her fingers have pulled it from its delicately gelled position, his tie loose around his neck where he hadn’t bothered to put it all the way back on in their scramble to get out of the office and back to somewhere they could be _truly_ alone, his button-up wrinkled and crumpled where her hands have been grabbing tirelessly.

He looks _messy._ Has he always had that scar above his eye? It seems to add to the scene of a disintegrating Leif before her and she can’t help the surge of protectiveness that courses through her stomach as her thumb runs over it before moving up to run through his hair. Nonetheless, _messy_ is a word she would never have associated with Leif until today, everything about him having always been immaculate; but his tousled hair coupled with kiss-swollen lips and the red marks she’d left on his neck can only be described as disheveled (and unreasonably _hot,_ if she’s being honest with herself). 

She likes seeing him falling apart, she likes knowing that she’s the one who’s taken him apart - she realizes every snarky comment, every instance of willful disobedience is a bluff, an obvious front, (maybe a _defense,_ that’s not really her business to say) because _this_ Leif, squirming beneath her and practically begging for _more,_ is laser-focused on her, seemingly willing and ready to give her everything he is without a second thought if she just asks for it. 

She must’ve been staring at him too long or he must’ve realized that she was gaining control and his competitive instinct must’ve taken over, because before she can process it, he’s rolling them over so that he’s on top of her and she doesn’t even have time to be frustrated because his lips find her neck immediately. 

_So maybe_ she’d spoken too soon and this is less about him getting the best of her and more about the drive and focus she’d seen back in the conference room of _pleasure, do this right, make it good._ Gee, this guy’s got some issues, but she’s not gonna complain when they’re making his teeth scrape against her neck like that and making her feel like her brain’s come in contact with a power line. 

_Wait, wait, wait. Zoey, what the hell are you doing?_

She thought she’d left any reservations she had laying on the floor with the broken glass of the poster in her living room, but as his lips and tongue make heavy work on her collarbone, she can’t help the panic that resurfaces. 

“Leif,” Her hands push against his chest as his name comes out of her throat far more breathily than she’d wanted it to, bringing his lips away from her neck and forcing him to make eye contact with her, meeting her gaze with an unexpected earnestness. _Seriously, what is his angle here?_ She knows his _thing_ with Joan had started out less than honestly, but hadn’t he learned his lesson with that?“Why are you here? Why are we doing this?”

“Because… we want to?” The air of certainty that’s surrounded him since she’d told him to shut up back at the office is gone now, replaced by an insecurity that manages to look both instinctive and unnatural on him. “I mean, we don’t have to - Um, if _you_ don’t want to - if this isn’t…” 

And oh, he sounds _nervous_ and decidedly not like Leif. The confidence he’d had a mere thirty minutes ago seems to have melted off of him, stuck to the floor of the conference room where they’d left it. If he was trying to play an angle here, he wasn’t doing a very good job at all.

His anxious words are enough to ease her mind, citing that she _knows_ (and unfortunately has seen it in action, no matter how much she tried to erase that little bit she’d observed from her mind) he can be smooth when he needs to be and if he’s making the choice to let his guard down a little bit and show that ounce of vulnerability, he might not be in this for the wrong reasons. Not that she _wants_ him to be in it for the right reasons, _God knows she isn’t_ , (and if the thought of how quickly he had fallen _‘in love’_ with Joan crosses her mind, she very swiftly kicks it _out_ of her mind) but she can at least stomach that he doesn’t think this is just to get him ahead at work or an ‘in with the boss’. 

She realizes that while she’s been overanalyzing and letting her thoughts run wild in her head, he’s been looking at her softly, expectantly, waiting for any sort of response that will tell him what to do. 

_“Fuck it._ ”

She grabs him by the tie and pulls him as close as she can, rolling over so that she’s once again on top and in control, pressing her lips tightly against his and drawing out an intoxicating moan when her hands run down his chest and push down on his hips. Her lips move to press a kiss to the side of his mouth, moving down until she’s sucked his skin red on his jawline.

“Stay put.”

She leaves one last kiss on his jawline before pulling herself away. She’s almost frustrated that he does the opposite of stay put, but she can’t complain when she realizes what he’s doing is stripping his pants off and throwing his tie to the side. 

He’s just finished unbuttoning his shirt when she comes back with a condom and directs him to put it on while she shrugs off her jean jacket and dress. 

She sits down next to him and kisses him again, letting every ounce of desperation seep into it, encouraging him to push her down and climb on top. She can feel his dick slide against her opening and she can’t believe how much she actually wants this as his lips slide from her mouth to just below her cheek to her jawline to her neck.

“Leif,” Her voice is soft and pleading, scratching her nails lightly across his back as he sucks on her neck. _“Please.”_

He’s not one to disappoint, pulling his lips away from her neck long enough to line it up with her entrance and slowly push it in, almost agonizingly before bringing his lips back to exploit her weak spot, drawing out a moan as he sucks particularly hard at the base of her neck and starts to roll his hips, slowly at first and then picking up speed to find a good pace.

She almost feels bad that he’s kind of doing all the work, but that guilt slides right off her when she feels the sensation of his teeth scraping across the pulse point on her neck combined with a particularly well timed roll of his hips and she can feel him shudder at the moan that that draws from the back of her throat. 

“Leif,” Her lips fall next to his ear as his desperate kisses fall along her jawline, wet and sloppy and pushing for _more,_ pushing for a closeness that seems impossible to achieve. “Faster,” She gasps out, his pace immediately increasing, a direct response to her, an eagerness to please pouring through every action. She would be irritated at the smirk she can feel against her jaw if his relentless drive to win at all costs didn’t feel so damn good. 

“God, that’s good,” His hips roll again before falling into a more unsteady thrusting pattern as he gets closer and it is _unfair_ how great he is at that, how fluid and malleable he is, seeming to know what she wants before she wants it, anticipating how to draw out every moan and shudder that he can. “Don’t stop that, you’re, _oh, you’re so good,”_

Her breathy voice in his ear, encouraging him, _praising him,_ is what pushes him over the edge, trembling gasps pushing into her neck as he falls apart on top of her, her nails dragging down his back adding to the stimulation that’s blacking out his brain.

She almost _whines_ when he pulls out, a not-so-small disappointment that she’s not yet finished (and she’s pretty damn _close),_ but she doesn’t have time to wallow in that before she processes that he’s kissing down her stomach and his thumb is already brushing against her clit as his kisses reach her pelvic bone. 

_“Fuck,”_

He doesn’t waste any time, swiping his tongue across her opening before going fully in. Her hand quickly finds its way into his hair, pulling it slightly taught and eliciting a moan that she can feel as he looks up at her through lidded eyes, bringing his mouth up to lightly suck on her clit. 

_“Oh, God, you’re doing so good,”_

The praise elicits another moan and she can feel the vibrations from his throat on her clit, adding another level to the sensation. He slowly moves his hand so he can slip his index finger in, letting her adjust before slipping his middle finger in, too, drawing out another _‘oh, God’_ accompanied by her legs moving to rest on his back and her hand tightening in his hair, her hips thrusting upwards, every move pushing him closer and taking as much of him as she can. 

It only takes a couple strokes of his fingers, angling upwards and finding her G-spot for her to fall over herself, profanities and praises streaming out of her mouth faster than she can process what she’s actually saying, her brain collecting in a puddle in the back of her head as his tongue circles around her clit, steady and consistent and drawing her orgasm out with every pleasured sound that comes from her throat. 

By the time she’s come down, her head back with her body, he’s moved back up and is pressing his lips against hers. She can taste herself now, mixed in with the taste of him that she’d craved so bad, and it is far more intoxicating than it has any right to be. 

She thinks maybe she should ask him to leave now, stress how casual this is and how little she wants from it, but her eyes are already slipping closed and she’s almost asleep when he finishes throwing the condom away and drowsily drapes an arm over her stomach, placing his head in the crook of her neck.

_That’s a problem she can deal with in the morning._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always comments are literally the best thing u can give me pleading emoji


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